My Cup Runneth Over.... or "If any more AWESOME gets crammed into this day I just might blow up and turn into Mary fucking Poppins...

I really want to get this posted while the high is still a fresh tingle in my spine... please excuse any typos.

First an update:

Weight Watchers is not the Hell I imagined and besides a few minor derailments that astonishingly did NOT involve Nutty Bars, is much easier than I expected it to be. After the first white-knuckle night during which I went through every emotion imaginable simply by virtue of the fact that I'd disrupted my usual routine of  bored? shove high fat/sugar stuff into pie hole. avoiding some task? shove more crappy food into pie hole. sad? angry? you know what to do, Porkchop! shove something with cream filling into your pie hole...
So I actually had to feel every feeling that I had for a few days and the experience made me want to come out of my skin. I also felt the urge to throttle random citizens and loved ones for no obvious reason other than it looked as though they might be breathing within 3 feet of me.
Thankfully that phase has passed and all people in my life, big and small are present and accounted for. No lumpy rolled up carpets, or weighted river dumps. Congratulations for surviving Chubby Girl DTs, everyone. And thank you for your patience.

We are once again members of our local YMCA. Haven't been back since renewing the membership except to take the boys for a swim. However, I am encouraged that the thought no longer drives me to the cupboard in search of a spoonful of Fluff. We've been incredibly sick this winter with what I'm going to call chronic Pan-American Death Flu. I almost grabbed the kids and headed to the gym this afternoon when the thought of the childcare rooms with the Death Flu strains they are, no doubt still crawling with, turned me into Agrophobe Mommy and I opted for mounting the elliptical machine/towel dryer at my house. We just got better for Christ's sake...
errr... update complete.

Today I felt some more of the feelings I'm so used celebrating/stifling with cream filling and I may not sleep for hours yet because there's still a palpable buzz in my being from all of it. This afternoon I got on the elliptical/towel dryer for 30 minutes and instead of watching the clock and feeling ashamed of the jiggles and all the clicking I heard my hips doing I felt AMAZING! What a relevelation! My head is a riot of words right now trying to find the best way to describe my exercise experience today...
Anyone who knows me will tell you I am the self-proclaimed poster potato for couches. Yesterday I would have told you I only run when chased... today I felt like I could run a marathon (except I would totally sacrifice time for a bathroom break when I need one - No way will anyone catch me crossing a finish line with a melange bodily fluids running down my leg.)
At first I was just thrilled about not sucking wind inside of three minutes but as my legs found that familiar rhythm and pace of the machine, I felt stronger and stronger and sweaty, and tired, and stuff started to get sore and I lost my balance a little bit, but then all those glorious endorfins that failed me during labor and childbirth flooded my system and stronger took over again. I felt some anger I recognized had been ruminating inside me for a few weeks and the angrier I got, the better I felt so I let it go and pushed harder with my body... Music I love was blaring in my ears and I didn't care about where my children were... or what family and strangers had done to incur my wrath. I pumped my legs and punched the air. I thought, "Somebody line up Glenn Beck and Ted Nugent. The SassMaster is ready to kick some ass." Poppets, I smiled and flailed and moved and sweated and closed my eyes and head banged through a work out... and I loved every minute of it. Fuck me. Who'd have thunk?

picture this with curly hair and much more "jiggle" or if that visual is too much for you,

 just enjoy 10 seconds of Brad Pitt

The second bit of awesomeness to grace my day was my brother. He continues to triumph over the train wreck of his not-so-distant past and is all the inspiration I should need to keep moving forward no matter how many obstacles I put in my own path. He's a recovering alcoholic who is in his umpteenth stretch of sobriety at the ripe old age of 29. Today he walked into the kitchen and reached out for the Viking with hands that didin't shake and a solid, grounded stance, a clear and contented gaze and I handed over my baby without an ounce of trepedation... just trust. I couldn't do that 6-8 months ago. I couldn't be sure my brother was sober enough to keep himself upright, let alone manange my squirming toddler without ending up ass over tea kettle. The best part was that I didn't let our history of dysfunctional communication stop me from telling him how proud I was of how far he's come and how happy I am to look into his face and recognize the person looking back at me.

Coincidentally, my BFF whose father is still struggling with his disease posted this today:

God, grant me the patience to relish each second of this day,

the courage to learn from and let go of yesterday,

and the passion to pursue tomorrow.

Jen, I think I got the best of this one today, but I know your Grace is due... and until then, I'm here to listen and respond with irreverence and sarcasm, as always. xo
Keep yours eyes open for your Grace, poppets... it doesn't always jump on your face and wiggle, but it's happening around you, of that I'm sure.